


Feral

by battle_cat



Series: Together [46]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Max on top, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sparring, Surprise Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Feral tonight,” he breathes against her neck.</p><p>“Yeah?” He’s stopped paying attention to her right arm and she makes a sudden move to twist out of his grip, makes him pin her wrist against the wall over her head. “What’re you gonna do about it?”</p><p>“Maybe I should bend you over the table and fuck you like that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nothing gets her going like a good round of sparring. Max knows. And she knows. And so they end up on the training room floor, sweaty and panting, Max pinned down underneath her as she grinds against his hardening cock.

They would probably have fucked right there, if not for Ace’s overly dramatic _“Hrmph”_ from the doorway.

“Civilized people’re in their rooms at this hour,” he muses as Max’s face turns bright red.

She looks back down at him, still moving her hips just slightly. “Maybe we should go to our room then.”

 

The sharp musk of his sweat and the deliberate brush of fingers, shoulder, hip against hers is a maddening tease the entire walk up through twisting corridors back to her quarters.

 

As soon as she bolts the door she snaps, “Clothes. Off.” And then it’s a race to strip off boots, belts, metal, leather.

He’s a hair faster than her and then he has her pinned against the rock wall, body to body with her pants tangled around her ankles, his erection pressing against her hip and that sly glint of mischief in his eyes.

She makes him work for it, makes him use his weight to hold her in place, gets her nub between them and shoves at his throat, makes him growl and pin an elbow and a wrist against the rock wall on either side of her head, both of them panting damp breath into each other’s faces.

If this were a real fight she’d headbutt him right now. Instead she sticks her tongue in his ear. It’s enough distraction to get a knee inside his and shove him off balance, make him slam back against her hard enough to make her gasp.

His mouth is on her throat, licking a hot line down her neck, a scrape of teeth sending sparks through her, sucking bruises into her skin but not letting her kiss. She cranes her neck, trying to get to his mouth, wanting his lips and tongue and hot breath against her face. Instead of moving closer he ducks his head and bites down on the meat of her shoulder.

“Ungh—fuck,” she hisses out as his teeth press hard and steady. She writhes and bucks her hips against him, because she likes how hard it makes him, and because of his fucking _teeth_ , the sharp spark on top of the dull ache of pressure. It goes straight to some deep place inside her.

“Feral tonight,” he breathes against her neck when he’s done biting her. He licks up a trickle of sweat along her clavicle.

“Yeah?” He’s stopped paying attention to her right arm and she makes a sudden move to twist out of his grip, makes him pin her wrist against the wall over her head. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Maybe I should bend you over the table and fuck you like that.”

They hadn’t tried that yet.

She’d finished a project today and in a fit of lingering martial neatness had swept up every stray washer and screw, leaving a clean, inviting slab of stone.

The mental image makes her shiver.

She twitches her hips against him. “Maybe you should.” Catches his flicker of a smile in response.

She half-expects him to push her toward the table right then, but instead he drops to his knees, nipping at her belly on the way down.

He plants a forearm across her hips to keep her still as he parts her folds and gets his mouth right on her clit, a lick and a suck that has her moaning against the wall. He picks up an ankle and eases her leg out of her trousers so he can spread her wider, turning his head to slide his tongue inside her in hot pulses, smearing wetness and spit and then just sucking steady and hard, building her up to a climax with devastating efficiency.

When she comes her body tries to curl up around the sensation, stomach muscles clenching, and his arm slides up to pin her back against the wall while his mouth keeps working, dragging out the waves of pleasure exactly as long as he wants, until she’s shaking and whimpering a breathless, “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ …”

He uses the moment of post-orgasmic haze, when she’s all buzzy and rubbery-limbed and warm, to pull her full arm into an armlock behind her back and wrap a solid grip around her shoulders.

“Cheating,” she mutters dizzily as he marches her on quivering legs toward the table.

“Mm. Sometimes you gotta fight dirty.”

She gasps when her hips hit the edge of the table and he bends her right over it, her cheek pressed against the cool stone. He’s not rough but the simple, easy efficiency with which he does it twangs some invisible string inside her, a clench in her belly of something other than fear.

The hand not holding onto her arm finds the back of her neck and she’s surprised by the moan that comes out of her when his fingers flex, a silent command to stay down.

“Mm?” he checks.

“Yes,” she breathes, because, _fuck, yes_. It’s still a strange delight, to expect to feel scared and instead feel _secure_ , secure enough to let everything go.

His hand runs down her side, over her ass, slides between her legs to tease. “You like this?” She’s not sure if it’s a question or a reminder but she moans out something wordless in response, opens her legs wider for him, hears his soft laugh behind her. She can feel his hard cock brush against the inside of her thigh.

“Hm, yeah.” She feels his weight shift, bending over her, his breath brushing her ear. He slides a single finger inside her, a teasing pulse that’s not nearly enough, but she twitches her hips against it anyway. “Mm. Look at you,” he rumbles in her ear. “So fucking wet at just the _thought_ of being fucked like this.”

“Unngghhh—stop teasing and get on with it,” she moans, squirming against him while his laugh rumbles through his chest where it’s pressed against her back, and then she feels his cock push into her, thick and full, and— _gods_ , it feels overwhelmingly good, being spread open and filled up and _taken_ like this, willingly, wantingly, filthy wet and shivery with vulnerability between his solid weight and the unforgiving stone and the desperate pulse of lust that drives every conscious thought from her mind.

A broken string of whimpers and half-words escapes her as he starts moving—“Ngh, yes, guh, fuck me, Max, just fuck me”—slow, deep thrusts that end with a delicious press of her hip bones against the rough edge of the table.

“Harder,” she begs, and he lets her wrist go so he can get both hands on her hips, so she can grab the side of the table to brace as he thrusts into her. His breath comes out in rough pants and hers in jagged little cries as he speeds up, his fingers digging into the tops of her thighs, and then she arches her back and it changes the angle just slightly to something that sends overwhelming jolts of pleasure through her.

“Ahh—there, there,” she manages between cries, arching up onto her elbows, ass in the air as he groans and fucks into her with short, hard thrusts. 

Her eyes drift closed, swamped with raw sensation, but she can feel his weight shift again, his hot grunts of breath against her shoulder as he braces an arm on the table next to her, and then there's the lightest trace of his fingers over her exposed throat.

He’s mostly stayed away from that, both of them wary of stirring memories of too many fights and the unasked-for kind of vulnerability. But she suddenly, desperately wants it.

“Yes,” she pants. He hums a wordless question in her ear and she tilts her head back further, feels his thumb brush under the hinge of her jaw. “Yes, yes…”

His hand wraps around her throat, warm and steady. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t need to for an overwhelming shudder to swamp her, leave her dizzy with the thought of how easily he could hurt her and how certain she is that he won’t.

He’s eased up but now he thrusts hard into her again, hitting that spot that makes sparks dance behind her eyes, his grip on her throat keeping her arched back, and she hardly ever comes without his hand or his mouth on her clit but gods, she is awfully close like this and she’s sure he can feel it.

“Come for me,” he rasps in her ear, and with the slightest twitch of his fingers against her throat, she does.

 

She’s lying boneless still draped over the table, her head resting on Max’s forearm as he sits on the bench, a sheen of sweat drying on his skin.

“Good?” He inclines his head a little to meet her sideways gaze.

How lucky she is, she thinks, that she gets to have this, with him. That she got to keep it, after everything both of them have endured.

“So good.” She gives him an exhausted smile.

He gets to his feet and then eases an arm around her waist to help her stand up, light-headed on watery legs. She leans back against his chest and kisses him, slow and deep and satisfied.

“Should see what a mess you are,” he mutters when they break apart, a tiny smile of his lips next to hers.

A finger swipes against the inside of her thigh, comes up covered in slick and come. He presses it into her mouth to lick up the salty mess.

“Gonna clean me up?”

“Always.”

They stumble over to the bed and she flops down on her back, letting him move her numb legs around as he licks her clean.

“Mm.” A tiny crease in his brow as he brushes a thumb over the raw red marks on both her hips, where she rubbed against the stone.

“Didn’t even feel it,” she mumbles truthfully.

His weight leaves the bed. He comes back with the tiny pot of green-smelling salve Dag made and rubs some over the red marks with gentle fingers. By the time he’s done she’s asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

She wakes up to pale morning light and naked Max snoring face down with an arm thrown casually across her torso. There’s a little spot of drool on the sheets by his half-parted lips.

The slightest movement usually wakes him, so she lies still, enjoying the early morning quiet and the warmth of his body heat and the pleasant aches from last night’s fighting and fucking, the satisfaction of her body being put to use in all kinds of ways.

His hand is splayed out over the skin of her ribcage, calloused fingers and knobby knuckles split open and scarred over from endless fights. She remembers the feeling of it on her throat last night and a little thrill runs through her.

She slips her arm out from between them so she can card her fingers through his hair, flecked golden in the morning sun. It’s enough to wake him, not with a startle the way she’s seen hundreds of times, but with a flicker of lashes and a soft twitch of a smile.

He looks… _happy_. It’s still not a feeling she’s used to reading on his face. She supposes she is probably the same.

He slides up to wrap her in his arms, her back against his chest, a warm press of skin all along her body. Nuzzles against the back of her neck with a contented _mmf_. “You’re fuckin’ sexy.” His plants a soft kiss on her shoulder, in the spot where his teeth left a bruise. “An’ dirty as all hell.”

“Hmph. You’re one to talk.” She reaches back to keep running her fingers through his hair, gives it a little tug.

The tips of his fingers trail over her throat, brush along the line of her jaw. It’s just an echo of last night but it sends a shiver into her core. Her head tips back against his shoulder without her input.

“You liked having my hand on your throat.”

Her breathing is already changing, just from the idle patterns he’s tracing over her skin. She presses back a little more snugly against him.

“Loved it.”

His fingers play: a light drag of nails where her pulse beats, a thumb reaching up to trace over her bottom lip, a press under her jawbone to tip her head this way and that for him to plant ticklish kisses on her skin.

“Been thinking...‘bout that”—a brush of lips just below her ear—“for a while.”

She isn’t quite sure how just this is sending such a charge through her, but her hips are rocking a slow rhythm. He’s growing hard against the curve of her ass.

“What else have you been thinking about?”

“Mm.” He sucks a kiss just below the cropped line of her hair. “Getting my whole hand inside you.” Fingers cup her jaw, drag slow and firm down her neck. “Spreading you open on the hood of my car ‘n licking til you scream.” He tongues the spot above the brand, right where sensation returns to her skin. “Figuring out how to make you squirt again.” It had happened once, a surprise alignment of fingers and mouth and mental state they hadn’t been able to repeat.

She sighs, arching against him, rocking her ass back against his erection. “I’ll take all of that. Now start thinking of ideas for next week.”

He laughs and nips at her earlobe, a sudden sharp spark that makes her gasp. “What d’you want right now?”

In answer she slides his hand into place around her throat. “Thought so.” His thumb and index finger push up against her jawbone, the tips of his fingers curling in just enough to make her emit a tiny moan.

“Bet you’re already wet,” he rumbles in her ear, and his other hand slides down to investigate. Fingers nudge between her thighs, slide easily through wetness, a single lazy fuck into her before retreating. “Mm. Soaked. Dirty girl.” 

His hand on her throat holds her against him, firm, but not hard enough to bruise or cut off her air. Wet fingers tease over her clit, making her writhe. “Uhh, _fuck_ , Max,” she moans.

“Say what you want.”

“Want you to hold me still and fuck me like this.” And _ohh_ , the shudder that runs through her from saying it out loud. “Don’t squeeze. Just keep your hand on my throat and fuck me until I come.”

“Mmm.” He eases her leg up and back over his, and then she feels the head of his cock nudge against her and slide in.

“Like this?” He pushes in slowly and she groans. She’s still a bit sore from last night, but so wet he slides easily with each slow, thorough roll of his hips, and the ache and the shifting pressure and fullness inside her and the firm steady press of his hand on her neck combine into a hot dizzy blur that leaves her breathless.

“Ohh…yes…so good, Max,” she gasps, and then his free hand is back smearing wetness over her clit and she can only make inarticulate noises.

He rolls her through a body-shaking orgasm like that, and then another, and then a third after he’s already come inside her, fingers flicking hard at her clit until she shudders apart and twists away to bury her scream in the sheets, his hand still wrapped firmly around her throat.

 

She thinks she must have dozed a little, after. The light is definitely different when she next pays attention. She doesn’t know what time it is, and she doesn’t care.

Max is lying on his side, facing her, awake and watching her with a look of hazy adoration. There are scratch marks on the arm that was around her throat. She doesn’t remember doing that.

She scoots over so she can rest her forehead against his. His hand strokes over the fuzz of her hair, and she trails her fingers through his, still damp with sweat and invariably sticking up at that one spot in the back.

“Max?”

“Mm.”

“Those things you talked about wanting to do. They’re all about me. About making me feel good.”

“Like making you feel good,” he rumbles sleepily.

“And I _very_ much appreciate that. But…there must be things that you want, too. Things that I can do for you?”

“Mm.” Non-committal. She leans back so she can see his expression, but there’s nothing there that she can read.

She shrugs, grabbing a pillow from where it had been shoved aside. “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

A twitch of a smile on his lips at that.

She has almost drifted back asleep when he mutters, so quietly, “Dunno…’f you’d wanna…”

“Try me.”

He licks his lips, and there’s a sudden creeping flush on the half of his face that’s not buried in the sheets.

“What?” Because now she’s curious.

“S-sometimes…like…” Oh, gods, he’s blushing deep red now. “Like something in my ass,” he mutters without looking at her.

“Like my fingers? Or a pretend cock?” The oldest Mothers of the Green Place could remember when you could buy such things in a store, and weren’t shy about talking about it. 

She didn’t think the blush could get any deeper, but he manages. He’s practically hiding his face in the sheets. She strokes his hair gently and smiles, because the idea is…not at all unappealing. “We can do that.”

He ventures a very tiny flick of his gaze toward her before looking away again.

She nudges him up to lie against her, his head tucked into her shoulder. “Think I could make something,” she muses. “I’m good at making things.” He huffs out a laugh against her skin.

“You’d look good bent over the table too.” He groans.

“Filthy woman,” he mutters affectionately.

“Just you wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://fuckyeahisawthat.tumblr.com)!


End file.
